


Can We Please Pretend?

by Meilan_Firaga



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: rarepair_shorts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meilan_Firaga/pseuds/Meilan_Firaga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a sleepless October night Remus gets an unexpected visitor.</p>
<p>Written for the 2012 Trick or Treat Challenge at rarepair_shorts on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can We Please Pretend?

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I wrote for 2012's Trick or Treat Challenge over at rarepair_shorts on LJ. The prompts I drew were as follows:
> 
> Trick: Acromantula  
> Treat: Hugs & Kisses  
> Location: Greenhouse Five
> 
> This story takes place during the fall of Prisoner of Azkaban, when Remus is still teaching at Hogwarts.

**_Can We Please Pretend?_ **

~*~*~*~*~*~

 When the moon finally began to wane and the transformations had ceased until the next month, the insomnia would come. Remus Lupin could not remember a time when he had been able to just lay down and sleep after a full moon had passed. In the past, he had typically taken to wandering the less reputable areas of cities where activity rarely ceased. However, he was finding that he enjoyed the quiet and stability of the Hogwarts grounds even more.

 Greenhouse Five had become a particularly favored haunt during his long nights after he had begun teaching. For the first few days his sense of smell nearly drove him crazy, but in the greenhouse it was nothing but warm earth and damp air. After a full day of dealing with the almost nauseating scents of students in the castle he was desperate for the type of relief the greenhouse provided.

 Given all of that it was no surprise that he smelled her first. Even when they were younger the smell of fresh peaches had clung to her like raindrops to the leaves of a tree. He would have recognized her scent in the most crowded corridor on the day everyone decided to skip their bath.

 “You shouldn’t be here,” he chided her as she approached. A brief rustle of silk reached his ears as she came to a halt just behind him.

 “A colony of acromantulas shouldn’t settle in the forest by a castle that houses a basilisk, either,” she retorted. “My son tells me that didn’t seem to stop them.”

 He turned to look at her, slightly surprised to find her wearing a rather plain dress beneath a set of thin silk robes. October was not the warmest season in Scotland. Her long, platinum hair fell unbound across her shoulders. “I’m sure your son tells you a great many things, Narcissa.” If his voice gave an air of temper when he spoke, he convinced himself that it was from his exhaustion. He certainly wasn’t about to admit—to himself or anyone else—that it was due to their shared history and the decision she had made so long ago.

 Narcissa frowned, one tiny wrinkle crossing her brow. “And here I’d thought you were incapable of being cold,” she mused sadly. “It was always one of your finer qualities.”

 A brief stare down ensued, neither of them wishing to concede to the other. Finally, Remus turned away, staring blankly at the row of plants he’d been absently watching when she approached. “Why are you here, Narcissa?” he asked, his voice now laced with true exhaustion more than temper. “You made your choice years ago.”

 Behind him, Narcissa flinched, her confident stance beginning to waver. “We often make choices that we later regret.” Her statement was so quiet that Remus almost didn’t hear her, but the words sent a shiver of shock up his spine. “I took out my cards again,” she continued, loud enough to be easily heard this time. “I’ll admit that I may be out of practice, but there is no mistaking what I saw.”

 She had his attention now. Many people may not have known that Narcissa Malfoy was a talented diviner, but he wasn’t one of them. He turned to face her again, surprised to find that she had crept even closer without his notice. There was barely a foot of empty space between them.

 “Something is coming, Remus.” Her voice was low once more, tinges of fear creeping into her words. “You may not have The Gift, but I know that you can feel it. A shift in the winds that say that everything will soon be turned on its head.” She stepped even closer, her voice growing more insistent as she placed one hand against his chest. “The cards say that there will be war.”

 For a moment as he looked down at her, he saw the woman she had once been: three months pregnant with the son of a man she did not love and desperately wishing for the end of a war for which she wasn’t sure she was on the right side. One of his hands crept up to cup her face of its own volition, his thumb stroking her cheek as it had year ago when he’d promised that he would always care for her. This time his tone was softer when he repeated his question. “Why are you here, Narcissa?”

 Quicker than he could have imagined she closed the gap between them and buried her face in his chest. In shock he brought his arms around her, reflexively holding her as though it was still a habit. Her next words were muffled, but he heard them all the same. “I don’t know where we’ll be by the time all of this is over once again. One or both of us might die. I could lose my son.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and Remus realized that hot tears were leaking through his shirt. His arms tightened around her.

 “Can’t we just pretend…” she trailed off, her words quaking. “For one night can we say that I left him? That you and I raised Draco together and that we live in a cottage in Hogsmeade while you teach?” She paused to take another deep breath. “Just for tonight, can we pretend that I made the right choice?”

 Remus swallowed hard, his mind battered with memories of the war—and of her. Even twelve years later when she might regret her choice his was still the same. Sliding one hand beneath her chin he tilted her face upwards until he could look her in the eye.  Slowly, he brought his lips to hers.

 For tonight or for always, he would pretend. For her.


End file.
